After the flashback ended, Cross jerked back into reality like a cord had been cut, gasping for breath. His dim-lit room was far from pleasant; it stank of male odor and stale fluids, the air heavy with the pungent smell of sweat and something else he'd rather not identify. His heart pounded in his chest as memories flooded his brain in rapid succession. The sensation was overwhelming, and he dropped to one knee in front of his mirror, hands clutching at his chest as if to steady the rush of information.
Hyperventilating, he gripped the cold floor beneath him, eyes squeezed shut.
Calm down. Calm down. Get it together, Cross.
After a few moments of frantic breathing, he finally managed to regain control, slowing his breaths until the panic receded like a tide going out. Tentatively, he opened his eyes and looked up at his reflection in the mirror.
It was him. Almost.
Cross stared at his reflection for what felt like an eternity, taking in the sight of a boy that was almost identical to his former self, but younger. Much younger. His face was that of a sixteen-year-old, fresh with youth, the features still soft but familiar. He had the same Wasian mix—half-Asian, half-Caucasian—but unlike the sharp, angular pretty boys you'd see in magazines, he just looked… average.
"Not-ugly" was probably the best way to describe it.
The most striking feature that remained the same was the small beauty spot below his lips, just like in his previous life. That little mark had followed him into this new world, a strange piece of continuity in this sea of confusion. His dark midnight-black eyes—also the same as before—stared back at him, wide and reflective. The only significant change he could see was the buzz-cut hairstyle.
Cross ran a hand over the short bristles of hair on his scalp. "Ugh, why a buzz cut?" he muttered, cringing slightly. "At least give me my old hair back."
Despite the small changes, this was him. Only… in the body of a sixteen-year-old who worked at a convenience store called 11/7.
He rifled through his new memories again, replaying them like a movie reel in his head. Each scene, each thought, felt crisp and vivid, almost too clear. It was as if someone had turned his brain into a hard drive with perfect recall. He could remember conversations, minor details, even what the kid who bagged groceries at the store next door had for lunch two weeks ago.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Do I have an eidetic memory now?
The thought struck him like a lightning bolt. There was no other explanation for why he could recall every memory of this world with such clarity.
Cross squinted, trying to dig deeper into the memories. If he really did have an eidetic memory, why was the 'him' in this world working at a convenience store instead of applying it to something useful, like going to a prestigious university or landing some cushy job?
Then it hit him. It wasn't just the memories—it had to be the ocular ability he'd asked for from One. Maybe the memory boost was part of that gift?
Cross leaned back on his heels, his heart pounding a little faster with excitement now. He wasn't just some ordinary kid anymore. He had powers.
He stood up, glancing at himself in the mirror, unable to suppress the grin that tugged at his lips. This was it. He had some sort of overpowered eye ability, and the only thing left to do was figure out how to activate it.
Cross took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. "Okay. Eye powers… activate?"
Nothing happened.
He blinked, glancing around the room. His eyes were still the same, black and boring. He tried again, this time with more conviction. "Ocular ability! Come forth!"
Still nothing.
Cross frowned. "Uh, okay. Maybe I have to chant something cool, like an anime character…"
He raised his hand to his face, making a gesture like he was casting a spell. "By the powers of the gods, unleash the eye of doom!"
Cringe. He felt it immediately.
Still, nothing happened.
Cross groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, maybe I should have asked One for some instructions. Seriously, how do people figure this stuff out?"
Undeterred, he tried a variety of other phrases, gesturing dramatically at his face. He even mimicked the Spider-Man web-shooter motion, as ridiculous as it felt. "Ocular mode! Unlock the gates of perception!"
Nothing. Just more awkward silence and disappointment.
At a loss, Cross slumped against the wall. Did One play a trick on him? Was this some elaborate joke to make him look like a fool? He stared at his reflection again, frustration boiling in his chest.
"Maybe I'm just supposed to focus," he muttered, locking eyes with his reflection. His dark pupils stared back, same as always, without any hint of change. "Come on, eyes, do something."
And then—without warning—they did.
A flicker of something… more.
Cross's world warped again, the dim-lit room and stale odor vanishing as he felt himself yanked into another space. It was sudden, like being pulled underwater—an overwhelming force dragged him down until there was nothing. No sight, no sound, no feeling. Just… void.
A familiar sensation.
But this time, something was different. He wasn't lost like before. No, this void seemed more controlled, more… focused. As if it existed for a specific purpose. Then, a voice boomed from the depths of that dark nothingness, rattling through Cross's very being.
One's voice.
"Heavenly Eyes."
Cross jerked at the sound. It wasn't like One's usual, easy-going tone. This was powerful, booming, and all-encompassing, like a god reading out a divine decree.